


I Have Considered The Lillies

by visceraboy



Category: Smile For Me (Video Game)
Genre: Child Abuse, Corpse Desecration, Gen, Hiding a Body, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Internalized Homophobia, Longing, Love Poems, Medical Malpractice, Mental Breakdown, One Shot Collection, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trans Boris, Trans man pregnancy, Trauma, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vomiting, Yearning, poem
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2020-10-13 13:36:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20583368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/visceraboy/pseuds/visceraboy
Summary: A collection of short Smile For Me oneshots





	1. Am I Wrong

"You know what I think? Some people... Are just..." Boris looked away, paying no mind to how wet his face felt, or the snot running down the back of his throat. "... Better when they're dead." There was a tinge of hurt to the sentence, but Kamal just nodded.

"I mean, you're not wrong," Kamal said, looking away. "Some people just aren't gonna change, and you can't help it."

Boris stared forward, not acknowledging Kamal for a moment. His mouth broke back into a sad smile as he started to giggle and rock.

"Boris?"

"I just thought," he sounded absolutely on air as he spoke. "My parents would be great fertiliser."

Kamal was taken aback for a moment.

"Kamal," Boris started, sniffing between words. "Is it bad? That I want to hurt them so badly?"

Kamal thought for a moment. He thought back to when they'd met. He thought about the terrace- the room where Boris had displayed just another moment of abuse for everyone to see. The mural he made of his own bleeding nose. Kamal thought, then looked at Boris.

"I don't think so," he said, gently placing a hand on Boris's knee. "I understand why."


	2. Buttercups

Boris's breath hitched as his eyes met his father's. He thought he was ready. But, nothing is like in the movies, is it?

He stared ahead, hearing his father speak to him. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair was greying. He felt himself smile. He was starting to wither. 

When his father finished talking, he looked down.

His mouth moved before his mind.

"Boris," 

Bloodshot eyes focused on him intently.

"Who?"

Boris looked away, his eyes instinctively filling with tears.

"That's... My name."

His father stared at him harder.

His voice echoed into Boris's ears, something that Boris prayed his brain would repress later.

It stung through his eyes.

His father rared back his hand, and Boris didn't know what he did. There was a wrist in his palm.

This was all so...

"... Childish." He muttered.

"What?"

Tears spilt and he looked away, releasing his father's hand.

"Yoou ar e so,, child ish!" He said, the last word coming in a yell. "Yuo cannott let me have evem One thing,"

His father demanded he listen, but Boris felt himself slipping further from rationality.

"Just oen!" He screamed, hitching his lips back to show his teeth in some primal way. "Yyou couldn,t let me have my Lily! Noww i cantt even hVe Myself???"

He didn't hear what his father said.

"We havent sspoken in, wht . ten years? Mroe?" Boris's lips turned to a grin. "Hahha. Funny. Isnst it? Youm. You think you know me."

Enraged silence.

"Yougave that up a longg time ago."


	3. Smile!

Your hands are in my mouth,  
Ungloved.  
I don't think dentist's are supposed to do that.  
Your too-sharp fingers  
Run over a tooth in the back of my jaw;  
It's been cracked as long as I can remember.

There's no novocaine  
In my veins  
As you pull the tooth from its resting spot.  
My heart throbs in my mouth,  
And the taste of blood makes bile rise in my mouth,  
But somehow  
I still look at you  
And feel my heart swell.

Your fingers are warm  
Against my tongue  
And they make me gag.  
You have too many teeth  
In your heart-stealing grin,  
But I don't mind.  
I think it's endearing.

My whole mouth is throbbing  
And I smile  
For you.


	4. Damian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING FOR DISCUSSION OF PAST SEXUAL ABUSE

"If you said to stop, I would have." Damian said, exhaling smoke as he spoke. "You never did tell me to, though." He leaned against the arm of his ratty old couch- the same one from when Kamal was only 14- and looked up at him. "Plus, what about all those times you came onto me? You weren't some innocent kid, man."

Kamal felt sweat pouring from his face as he looked up at his brother.

His brother.

Boris was just in the other room.

He'd be okay, he reminded himself.

His words caught in his throat as he tried to think of them, and Damian shook his head.

"You're such a goddamn hypocrite," he slurred, grinning. Of course he was drunk.

"Hypocrite?" Kamal bursted, tears finally finding their way out. "I- I was fourteen!" He almost shrieked, jumping to his feet. "YOU taught me it was okay! You're such a- fucking-"

"Oh, shut the hell up!" Damian shouted back, his eyes narrowing. "You come here and parade around like you're such a good person, but you're not- you're fuckin' not! You're a needy little cunt!" His voice was violent as he stood, towering over Kamal with a good foot. "You blame everything on everyone else, because you're so insecure, if anything was your fault, you'd fucking kill yourself!"

Kamal lost his voice. The words dug under his skin as he looked down, grinding his teeth.

The door opened, Boris looked scared as he checked in. 

"Kamal?" He said, walking in. "Are you…… okay?" 

Damian shot his glare to Boris, his smile returning.

"We're just having a chat, man, don't worry." He said, holding his hands up. "You know how it is."

Boris wrapped his arm around Kamal's shoulder, taking in Kamal's panicked expression. His eyes turned cold as he looked back to Damian.

"I think,, we should Go now." He said, smiling back, showing his many rows of teeth. "Or would You raither waking up 2 morrow… with No Teeth?" 

Damian felt his blood run cold as he backed away, his eyes fixated on Boris's mouth. 

He didn't get to reply as Boris took the panicked Kamal out of the old apartment.


	5. Jimothan Botch Is Not Gay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> except he totally is

Jimothan… literally could NOT stop himself from touching Boris Habit.

His hands always found their way to Boris when he was with his boss. Most of the time he tried to keep it to small, non-invasive touches. A hand on top of his, a pat on the back, a tap on the shoulder. Sometimes they were more obtrusive, noticeable. Hands on the man's chest, fingers intertwining, arms wrapped around him…

Obviously, he was not gay.

He just enjoyed being touchy with his boss. Boris was touchy with almost everyone, so it was fine! Boris loved to touch people. He was perfectly happy with touching people.

So why did Jim feel so guilty when he felt Boris squeeze his hand back? It made him feel like he was gonna cry. His heart ached and he couldn't bring himself to look at Boris. His hands shook as Boris let go, looking at him with tender eyes. Oh, those eyes made Jim feel like the world when they focused on him… his heart ached as Boris placed his clawed hand on his cheek.

"Jimo than?" He asked, tilted head. "R u….. Okay?"

Jim looked away, the pain finding its way to his stomach. He didn't reply, allowing his averted eyes and shaking hands to speak for him. Boris looked down, frowning as he scooted away, retracting his hand.

"Amm i…… scaring u?" His voice was tender and fragile, as if he could shatter any second.

"N-no! No!" Jim shouted, waving his hands in front of him. "I'm just… oh, gosh…" he placed his hand on his cheek and felt years of guilt and self-hatred building inside of him, and oozing out wherever it could. Tears welled in his eyes as he tried to find the words to say, and his hands found themselves covering his eyes, protecting him from Boris's concerned and prying eyes.

"Do u…. Want 2 tell me?" He asked softly. "Its ok if u dont…. But if u Did, maybe i could.. Help??" 

Jim pushed hair from his face and looked away, shaking, his guts in a knot. Would Boris hate him? He'd probably be fired on the spot, oh gosh… holding was one thing, but… feelings? Boris would find that disgusting. He would find Jim disgusting! 

"Jimothan?," he asked, pushing hair from his face. 

"I- I'm sorry," Jim blurted, hands shaking too badly to even be seen properly as hands. "I'm sorry, doc, I should know better- I- I-"

"Knmow better,,?" Boris asked, scooting closer. "Know better thn what?" 

Jim moved away, pulling his own hair. His sobs made it hard to breathe, his vision blurred. "I... I can't," he choked out. "It's… bad!" His grip on what was around him started to slip. He felt nothing under him. "You… oh, gosh…"

"Me…?" Boris practically wilted as he backed away, looking down.

Jim could hear yelling and hands on his skin. He couldn't see through the thick fog in his head. He couldn't feel anything besides unadulterated fear.

A hand touched his cheek. Real, with calloused green palms and claws. His eyes refocused. 

Boris was holding him, soothing him.

Jim found himself melting into the larger man's grip.

"Jim,,?" He whispered. "What is., the matter ?" He sounded like he was about to cry. 

Jim felt warm and safe against Boris. He couldn't think straight, all he knew was that he was pulled from something awful and into something warm.

"I love you," he said clinging onto Boris. "I'm… I'm sorry,"

Boris held him closer.

"Do not b Sorry!" He said, unable to contain a light giggle. "I was so worries…. But u are just lovey-dovey!"

Jim clutched tighter, not knowing what to say. He exhaled, feeling a calm wash over him.

"Andm… um," Boris held him closer, exhaling calmly. "i ffeel…… the same?"

Jim rested his hands on Boris's shoulders as he pulled back, looking quizzically at him. "You do?"

"I do!" 

Jim flushed as he looked away.

"It's… not gross."

"No." Boris said, smile lessening, but Jim started to beam.

"Then do you mind if I…?" Jim asked, his hands finding their way to Boris's jaw. "Uh…"

"Do what? :-0" 

"Oh, c'mon, ya big lug…" Jim traced his fingers down Boris's jaw. "Don't make me say it…"

Boris smiled and leaned forward, kissing Jim soft. His chapped lips were warm, and it drove Jim up the wall. His lips tingled with the new sensation of being kissed like this. Their lips parted, and Jim smiled.

Maybe he was gay. 

He laughed, leaning into Boris's embrace.

He'd be okay.


	6. I Never Did Anything To You

Damian was smiling as he talked to the school counselor. Kamal wasn't. Kamal felt like he was going to throw up. The counselor never asked him anything. Wasn't this supposed to be safe? Obviously not. If they called him, it wasn't safe.

"Is everything alright at home?" She asked.

"Of course," Damian said. "Why wouldn't they be?" 

"Your ------ told me --- doesn't feel safe at home, would you know why?" 

Kamal's breath hitched. No one noticed.

"I have no clue, did --- tell you why --- thinks that?"

"----- says you have a habit of drinking." 

That wasn't what Kamal said.

"I have a beer after work here and then, but that's all." Damian lied.

"----- also says you're very irresponsible."

That wasn't what Kamal said either.

"---s just making up problems, everything's fine at home." Damian said, glaring at her.

She looked back, visibly unaffected by his words and expression.

"Alright, then I suppose we're done here." She said, and Damian stood.

Kamal swallowed thickly, looking down.

"A-actually, uh… can I stay? So I can talk to you, ma'am?" Kamal looked at her with pleading eyes.

"Sorry, -----, you need to come home." Damian said, putting a hand on Kamal's shoulder. "We gotta make dinner, mom and dad are stopping by later."

Kamal was sweaty, knowing the look in Damian's eyes. He never smiled when he looked at him like that; it made Kamal's blood run cold.

Damian said nothing as they walked to the car. Kamal felt like he was going to vomit.

Once they were situated, Damian looked at Kamal with that look again.

"What was that all about?" He asked in a sort of gentle tone. His hand had found its way to Kamal's knee, and began rubbing a circle into his cold skin.

"It, um… nothing, really," Kamal looked away, feeling his brain prepare for something terrible to happen to him. His mind went foggy and he felt nothing.

"Nothing?" Damian said, leaning in. "If it was nothing, then why did I get called into your school on a saturday? By a goddamn school shrink?"

Kamal's stomach lurched. He really had to pee.

"I just, um… I just-"

"You were just being stupid." Damian snapped, baring his nails into Kamal's skin. "Do you know what'd happen if people thought I was hurting you, -----? Do you know? Or are you too stupid to figure it out?"

Kamal couldn't speak. He looked down. 

"You'd go back to mom and dad." Damian said. "And you know where you'd go after that?"

Kamal was shaking. He didn't feel anything.

"Look at me and fucking answer," Damian said.

Kamal felt like he wasn't even in his body.

"Look at me, dammit!" Damian screamed, snatching Kamal's face.

Kamal was going to vomit. Damian still had that look. 

"Are you really gonna be a fucking brat?" He roared, clenching tighter on Kamal's face. "I should let mom and dad take you back if you're gonna act like this, you goddamn bitch!"

His hand was on his thigh, squeezing until Kamal could feel the bruises forming under Damian's hands.

Kamal's stomach was empty.

Damian would later claim he wasn't thinking about it when he slammed the back of Kamal's head into the window, but Kamal would remember the anger in his eyes.


	7. now i see blood on my sneakers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for misgendering/deadnaming, violent death, and discussion of past rape (specifically when Kamal was 14)

Kamal mentally damned himself for coming back to this place without Boris, but something in him told him he just needed to do this. He knocked on the door, looking down as he heard Damian call out.

No turning back.

The door opened.

Damian looked the same as the last time he left. The time Boris threatened to take all his teeth out. Kamal's hands shook as Damian looked at him. 

"Hey," Damian said, indifferent. "What brings you here?"

Kamal looked away. This was bad. 

"I just… wanted to talk." He said.

"Talk?" 

"Talk." 

Damian looked at him.

"So are you gonna come in and talk or what?"

Reprieve.

Kamal sat on the same, ratty couch.

Damian sat across from him.

Kamal's hands sweated and he looked off. 

"So, um… before, uh, last time, we, um.." Kamal stuttered, pushing hair from his face.

"Spit it out."

Danger.

Kamal looked at Damian.

"Before last time, we hadn't seen each other in, what, uh…"

"You were nineteen when you left, and thirty-eight when you came back." Damian said, still angry. "What's that?"

"... Nineteen years." Kamal said guiltily.

"And you came back just to act high and fucking mighty."

Kamal was quiet.

"And now you're back," Damian gave him that look that made Kamal's blood run cold. "So. What do you want?"

Kamal couldn't find his words. He just looked down.

"... Catching up. That's what you meant, right?" Damian cracked a grin. "I got married for a while, but she left. Kids, too, but… you know how it is. Won't let me near them." 

Kamal looked up, eyes widening. 

"So," his voice dripped with nerves. "I'm… an uncle?" He couldn't help a grin. 

"Yeah," Damian started. "Mei is twelve and Ajay is ten. Their mom actually put a goddamn restraining order on me,"

"Don't blame her," Kamal said before thinking.

Damian looked at him. Kamal felt his stomach drop.

"... Damn, I would've hoped you would at least pretend like you had some kinda faith in me." Damian looked off. "Y'know, not like I'm your brother or anything, man. Or the only person who accepted your shit for like, years." 

Kamal looked at him, for a moment he couldn't believe the bullshit coming from Damian's mouth, but then he remembered who he was talking to.

"Well, I'd rather trust some lady I don't know than, y'know… the guy who raped me as a child." Kamal's voice didn't waver as he spoke. 

Damian just stared.

Then laughed.

"You think that was rape??" Damian asked, leaning forward. "You fucking loved it, Kamal. Don't play dumb with me."

Kamal glared. He wasn't even upset at this point; just so, so tired of this shit.

"Then how come when I think about it, I wanna fucking die?" 

Maybe he was a bit upset.

Damian didn't say anything.

"I was fourteen." Kamal said, looking at him. "I was a child, and you were supposed to take care of me, but did you?"

"I did my best." Damian said, glaring upwards. "I was twenty, man, do you really think I was ready to take care of you?"

"But you didn't have to…" Kamal felt anger and pain boil inside of him as he pushed hair out of his face. "You didn't have to fucking hurt me!" His voice cracked as he shouted, tears boiling in his eyes. "I… I can barely sleep with my own husband, Damian! Some nights, I wake up and he's touching me and I think it's you, and…"

"That's not my fucking fault, you should know better!" Damian stood. "You've been gone for nineteen goddamn years, Haima, it's your own damn fault if you can't get the hell over it!"

His blood went cold.

"What the fuck did you call me?" Kamal's voice seethed with rage as he jumped to his feet and balled his fists.

"You heard me," Damian grinned. "Haima."

His fist connected with Damian's jaw.

Damian stumbled and tripped over the leg of the coffee table, and on his way down, the corner dug into his side.

Kamal looked at him.

"Shit-"

Bones cracked under Kamal's foot as he stomped down on Damian's leg with the weight of his body.

"SHIT- fuck, okay! Kamal!"

Kamal twisted his foot, sobbing and seething with rage.

Damian couldn't form words. Where the table had dug into him began to bleed. Everything hurt.

Kamal stomped onto his leg one more time then glanced around. 

He spotted a pipe by the door.

"I ain't high and fuckin mighty," Kamal said as he lifted his shoe. "Far from it. I fucking hurt people, too, but you know what I did, Damian?"

He didn't quite recall how he got to the pipe. The metal was cold in his hands.

"I grew up." 

He readied the pipe like a baseball bat.

"I apologized. I made things better." His voice sounded cold as he readied himself. "I'm not like you."

There was a crack as the metal made contact with Damian's chest. He choked and screamed out.

"I'm not the same miserable kid," Kamal almost screamed as he hit Damian in the ribs. He started coughing up blood. "My kids know I'll always be there for them,"

"I'm not scared of you anymore!"

Slam.

"I fucking SURVIVED!""

Damian's skull cracked as Kamal delivered the final blow.

Kamal stood over him, staring. Panting. Crying.

He felt fucking amazing.


	8. Dogtooth

Your palms are rough,  
And your claws are sharp,  
But your grip is tender enough   
To hold my heart.

My teeth are golden,  
My heart is molding,  
It's been left out  
To search for your   
Gentle touch.

But I can't seem to find it,  
So I'm up high,  
Looking to the sky,  
Trying to keep my heart inside,  
Because every moment I can't find  
Your gentle love,  
I feel it die  
Just a little more.

Roses grow  
Around my cell,  
Reminding me  
Of love,  
And my mind  
Dwells.

Oh, how I long   
For your love,  
And your touch.  
So I sit so far above,  
Yearning for your love.

A child with a Dogtooth,  
Seeking your truth,  
So I help them,  
Because they remind me of you.

There's three ways it ended,  
The memories never fade.

The way the glass shattered,  
And you fell into your creation,  
Was it fate?  
Or the wrong destination?

Kindness,  
But not the kind   
That could make you happy.  
You looked uncomfortable,  
Confused,  
It was strange.  
A flower child,  
Kissing someone  
That stole their smile,  
Someone deranged.

The one we live in now,  
Where your heart is flourished,  
Because of a little florist.  
Our family is   
As big as your heart.


	9. you're all over me

Having gone unnoticed due to the lack of residents in the apartments, Kamal and Boris successfully transported the body to a wooded area. Asides from the urge to vomit, Kamal felt nothing. Boris was used to this. He'd told Kamal that on the way to the woods. Kamal didn't ask why.

The woods were peaceful.

Far from people. 

When Kamal looked to the trunk of the run-down car, he felt the overwhelming desire for… something. He wasn't sure what, though.

They stood for a moment, not really looking at each other, not really saying anything. Kamal's eyes lowered. The blood on his pants legs and shoes had turned brown. He felt sick to his stomach as he choked out a laugh. Boris looked at him. 

"Are you…?"

Laughter turned into wheezing sobs.

Boris looked away. His mouth opened, but no words came. His hands were shaking. His eyes were faced to the dirt.

"... Leather might have been a better choice today,"

Kamal looked up, brows furrowed. He sniffed, snot trailing his lips and chin. His face was shiny and his eyes were bloodshot. 

"What?" Kamal said, his voice thick like mud.

Boris was quiet, still staring at the dirt.

Kamal popped the trunk open, dragging out the bag and dropping it on the ground. Boris looked back to him as he dug a boxcutter out of his pocket.

"Kamal…?"

The bag was torn open. 

Kamal sat in the dirt, staring. 

His tears slowed as he stared. His eyes grew wider. 

Boris bit his lips as he looked around. He wasn't looking when Kamal dug his fingers into Damian's mouth.

Kamal felt the tooth loosen in the gums as he pulled. 

"Kamal?" 

Everything felt blurry.

Fresh tears flooded out as he stared at the tooth on his hand.

He clenched his hands into fists when Boris went to grab his hands. Breathy sobs replaced his words as Boris said something he couldn't hear, then grabbed the corpse by the feat.

Kamal couldn't move.

Boris helped him into the car and gently opened his hands

"Can I clean it?" He asked.

Kamal nodded.

He wiped the tooth with a baby wipe, then Kamals hands. When he handed the tooth back, Kamal held it as if his life depended on it.

The engine was loud. Or was that the sound of the tires? He didn't know.

The trees were so green.


	10. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is technically unfinished, so I may follow it up

Two lines. Rising bile. Jim's voice at the other side of the door. Parsley focused on how he forgot to wash pee off his hand. 

The door opened. Parsley was painfully aware of how he wasn't wearing pants now.

"Parsley?" 

Parsley barely hummed in response. His eyes focused on his hands.

Jimothan saw what he was holding.

He decided not to address it, not unless Parsley brought it up.

"Are you okay, buddy?" He said in the gentlest tone he could muster. "You got pretty sick last night, had me worried sick."

"Sorry," Parsley mumbled, swallowing down puke. "I'm fine, just.." 

His hand smelled bad. 

In between the bathroom tile needed to be cleaned.

"Dad?" He choked. Tears had finally came.

Jim froze.

His voice stopped in his throat.

"Dad," he sobbed. "I- I fucked up real bad,"

It wasn't more than about three steps. These apartment bathrooms are small. Jim wrapped his arms around Parsley. He didn't care if he smelled bad or wasn't dressed; he could tell from how Parsley clung back that he needed this.

"You'll be okay, Parse," 

He didn't feel like it.

He didn't feel much for a while after he cried.

Jim guided him through what he needed to do; washing and dressing. When Parsley thought back on it, it was actually disturbing that he did everything without question, at least to him. Jimothan didn't think much of it.

He sat on his bed. Music came from a PSA. 

Jim sat with him.

Silence.

Save for music, and the sound of Dr. Habit's voice.

Nothing felt real.

Jim left. Parsley left. 

Parsley didn't know where he was going. Not until he was going up the stairs to the terrace. He mumbled through greetings with Kamal before sitting next to him. His head rested on Kamal's shoulder, and his arm laid around Parsley's body.

He still didn't feel anything. 

He wanted to feel something.

"Kamal?" 

"Hm?"

Parsley ran his hands under Kamal's shirt and rested his head on his chest.

"Parsley," Kamal's breath hitched as he spoke. "St-stop that."

Parsley took his hands away, and climbed off of Kamal. Kamal flattened his shirt and sat up.

"Are you okay?" Kamal looked over to him. "You seem… not good."

Parsley looked over to the trees outside the Habitat.

"... I got pregnant." He said, feeling a new rush of emotions. "And I'm not sure what to do or… how to feel." 

"You- you what?" 

"I don't even know whose it fucking is!" Parsley was starting to cry again as he scratched at his skin. "I- I just… oh gosh, Kamal…"

"H- hey! That's okay! Uh-" Kamal grabbed Parsley by the shoulder. "I mean, if you… wanna keep the baby, I, uh…"

His fingers gently ran over Parsley's balled fist.

"I'd be more than happy to help." 

Parsley looked at Kamal. His eyes stung as he sniffled and loosened his hand. 

"Kamal, that's… a really big commitment," he said, eyes widening. "I can't ask you to do that."

"That's why I'm asking you." Kamal said, taking Parsley's hand. "Can I ask you?" 

Parsley smiled and held back. "... Go ahead."

"Can I be your husband?" 

"Even if I don't want to have a baby right now?"

Kamal leaned into Parsley.

"Baby or not."


End file.
